


Plague of Need

by wyntirrose



Series: Stockholm and Lima [2]
Category: Transformers (Marvel Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Lima Syndrome, M/M, Physical Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, cross-faction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntirrose/pseuds/wyntirrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An accident years ago left them bonded to each other in a way that no transformer could possibly understand. They thought the bond was forever and defined who and what they were, but it was so much more than that. Fifteen years later they will be faced with what they have become to themselves and to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plague of Need

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This is based off the events that took place is issues 7-8, 240-251, and 306-328 of the Marvel comics, with some influence from FunPub's Games of Decption and At Fight's End. I've taken some liberties with the various canons (really, who doesn't?). Also, a very special thanks to Bitter Eloquence for helping me and betaing this monster.

Ratchet stood and paced the room again, examining the duct vents and access panels as he did. It was a useless exercise - all escape routes had been found and locked up long ago, but a part of him still hoped. It didn't matter that he knew he wouldn't get far even if he had been able to escape - if the Decepticons didn't catch him in the halls, he'd never be able to hack the docking tower controls, and he'd never be able to swim to the surface before the pressure siezed up his systems. Besides, even if all that hadn't been as certain as Prowl's numbers, there was still the Bond to deal with.

That mistake, that series of stupid mistakes all those years ago, meant that he was trapped in this room with no possibility of escape. He paused in his examination of an access panel above the bed. There was one escape option that was still open to him. One possibility that Megatron hadn't taken from him. He could offline himself. Megatron had even left him a gun with which to do it. The sleek pistol had been sitting in that same drawer for years now, touched only once. Sometimes after a particularly bad night, he found himself staring down at it, willing himself to pick it up and end it all. But both he and Megatron knew the truth about his nature. Suicide wasn't in him, and as evil as Megatron was, neither was murder.

He could try to throw both himself and the Decepticon off a cliff to their deaths; he could tackle Megatron into into an exploding portal; he could even beg Optimus Prime to kill the combined thing that he and Megatron once were; but he didn't have the ability to do the deed himself. Not like this. He hung his head with a groan of frustration and slapped one hand feebly against the panel he was examining.

"I don't know why you keep looking, Ratchet," Megatron said from the doorway.

The Autobot jumped at the voice. He had felt Megatron's approach, but he was so used to that feeling in the back of his processor, that he hadn't even heard the warlord enter their shared quarters.

"Even if you were able to get away, where would you go? You know as well as I that they never even attempted to look for you. Now what does that say to you?"

"Frag off," Ratchet growled softly.

Megatron chuckled in response and came to sit beside him on the berth, reaching out to brush Ratchet's helm with something that from anyone else would have been tenderness. The Autobot leaned into the touch slightly, cursing himself for his weakness. He pulled away and glowered at the Decepticon warlord, but Megatron never moved. He just smirked at Ratchet knowingly.

"They know I'm alive, and from that they know that you are too, and yet they haven't come for you in all these years. They haven't even bothered to question it," he said calmly. "But it isn't as if your life has been bad here, Ratchet. I'm not cruel to you. I provide you with shelter, safety, fuel ..." He trailed his hand down over the Autobot's chest, gently fingering the seal of his windshield reminding the Autobot of what else he provided.

Ratchet pulled away sharply and stood, moving to the other side of the room quickly. "You've kept me prisoner here! And the only reason you've _provided_ anything was because you need me! Don't make it sound like there's more to it than that!" he spat out, venom lacing each word.

Megatron looked at Ratchet for a long time, his optics deep red and cunning as he plotted his new course. "Wrong tense, my friend. I _needed_ you. Shockwave has discovered a way to make you irrelevant."

"FRIEND? How dare you call me a - wait? What?" Ratchet's anger cooled off instantly as the second half of Megatron's comment registered. "What do you mean? What's he done?"

Megatron shrugged nonchalantly, secretly loving every show of confusion in the medic's face and optics. Ah, there it was. The realization that if this was what he feared, Ratchet was looking at his own death.

"Shockwave has discovered how to break the bond without killing me," Megatron replied. "I take it this doesn't make you happy?" The warlord chuckled evilly as Ratchet sank down, his knees giving out on him as the full magnitude of the statement hit home.

"It won't kill you," Ratchet whispered, "but it will kill me. Right?"

Megatron stood and moved to Ratchet, crouching before the medic. "It won't kill you. I made sure that was very clear to him." He took Ratchet by the chin and made him look up.

The grip was hard and painful, the fingers far more used to delivering pain than compassion. There was a time when Ratchet would have fought the grip, would have taken dents and the pain rather than give Megatron what he wanted. But this time he found himself relenting, found himself turning to face the warlord. Primus curse him, but he found himself wanting to believe what Megatron was saying. And he knew that hope was written clearly in his optics.

"Why would I kill you, Ratchet? I still have _uses_ for you."

Ratchet tried to pull away in disgust but quickly found himself drawn into a kiss that his body was more than willing to return. He hated that he was so easily seduced, so quickly reduced to a moaning, shivering wreck under this monster's hands. A part of him screamed in rage at what was happening, while another, stronger part reached up and stroked Megatron's arm, lighting all the sensitive nodes just under the surface of the armor.

Megatron chuckled softly as Ratchet reacted, hearing the swallowed whimper as the medic shivered under his hand. This kind of power was intoxicating. He would never be able to let himself go with any of his crew. Even though there were more than enough who would jump at the chance to be bedded by him, he could never trust them enough. How many of them were waiting for that one mistake, that one opportunity to seize the throne? But here, with his enemy, with the one mech who had consistently defeated him - only now was he able to let his guard down and feel. And more importantly, make Ratchet _feel_.

He pulled Ratchet close against him, trying to ignore the sensations the medic was bring out in him, and failing as their bodies scraped together, silver rubbing roughly against white. A soft growling moan was pulled from him and in return, Ratchet chuckled.

He couldn't help but grin as he felt his captor shiver under his ministrations, as he heard that deep throated moan. He should have been horrified that he was enjoying this, or at least disturbed at how Megatron's influence had corrupted him. But in this moment he didn't care. And the truth was he never did.

***

Ratchet came online with a soft groan, his body still buzzing with that last, powerful overload. It only took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone in the berth. Megatron's heavy silver arm was draped across him in what almost looked like a protective embrace. The warlord's systems sounded so different from those of a vehicle, but there was still something soothing about the soft hum and gentle vibrations.

In the beginning, when the connection between them was still fresh and young, Megatron had been far more violent than he was now. The Constructicon medic had been called in on far too many occasions to fix the damage Megatron can caused, but that anger quickly cooled into something far more sinister. Ratchet could understand the angry, rape-like interfacing that he'd been subjected to in the early days of this perverted bond, but this new angle was far more disturbing. And what was worse, Ratchet was finding that a part of him enjoyed the company, enjoyed the tenderness, and enjoyed the power he seemed to have over the warlord. Smokescreen would probably call it Stockholm and he'd probably be right, but somehow, Ratchet couldn't drag himself away from the situation. Not really.

He shifted, carefully moving Megatron's arm until he could get up without waking him. As silently as he was able he slipped off of the berth and walked to the cabinet where he knew the energon was stored. He pulled out a cube of mid-grade and downed half of it in one gulp. He sighed softly, looking down at the drawer that held the gun.

"If you're going to offline yourself, do me a favour and don't leave a mess."

Ratchet growled and spun, throwing the cube against the wall above Megatron's head violently. He could have easily hit the Decepticon. Primus knew he had more than enough experience throwing things at - and hitting - the Twins, and he liked them. And yet, as he aimed for Megatron's smug face, the cube flew up and over, hitting right where he has subconsciously aimed.

"Now, now. No need for a tantrum, Ratchet," Megatron commented as he stood up.

"Frag off," the medic growled, turning his back on his captor. "I wasn't throwing a tantrum, you primus-damned glitch."

Megatron made a noise halfway between disbelief and sarcastic agreement. Without asking for permission, he came up to Ratchet and wrapped his arms around the other mech's waist. "Of course you weren't," he said with a teasing tenderness.

Ratchet growled softly, but made no real attempt to pull away. There was no point. Megatron was more than strong enough to hold him wherever he wanted.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, a soft, almost reigned anger in his voice, and most of it was aimed at himself.

"Why shouldn't I?" Megatron asked in reply. "It's not like either of us have anyone else. And I'll admit, I've grown accustomed to you."

Ratchet pulled back with a snarl. "You're not _accustomed_ to me! This is just all a sick game! I'm just a toy and don't you dare try to ingratiate yourself by pretending this is something other than what it is!"

Megatron chuckled evilly and let the medic go. "You're right. Neither of us were ever mechs to play games, were we?"

Ratchet looked at Megatron intently, trying to figure out this new tactic. "What are you playing at?"

"Nothing at all, my friend. Nothing at all." Megatron turned to the door. "I'm sure you can entertain yourself. I will inform you as soon as Shockwave is ready to null the bond."

Ratchet threw several choice curses at Megatron's back, anger inflamed by the warlord's chuckled response.

As soon as the door closed, Ratchet slid to the ground and buried his face in his hands. There was a time when he would have screamed and railed against this. He would have taken this opportunity to try to escape, to figure out how to contact the Autobots. But that fight had gone out of him long ago.

***

"Lord Megatron. Permission to speak."

Megatron never looked up from the screens as he monitored Autobot activities, searching for their next target.

"Granted." The curt reply was his only acknowledgement of Soundwave.

"The Autobot is a distraction." Soundwave was never one to pull his punches when it came to advice and Megatron knew precisely what was coming next.

"You will not terminate him, Soundwave. I have made this clear."

"Acknowledged."

Anyone else would have taken the reply at value, but Megatron had known Soundwave long enough to hear the irritation in that flat response. He turned to face the communication's officer and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back casually against the command console.

"But you don't agree with my decision."

Soundwave paused for the briefest moment, instantaneously calculating the potential replies and their possible outcomes. "Affirmative."

"Then, please. Elaborate. Tell me why I should allow you to terminate him."

Again there was that instantaeous pause. Anyone else would have missed it, but Megatron was not anyone else. "The situation is potentially exploitable. He renders you vulnerable. Once link terminated the Autobot will no longer be required."

"Bah!" Megatron waved the argument away. "Anyone who tries to use him against me will find that he is nothing more than a plaything. He is a bargaining chip against the Autobots."

"Your reasoning: flawed," Soundwave replied.

"I'm listening." Megatron's optics narrowed dangerously. There were few Decepticons who would dare question Megatron, and of those few, Soundwave was the only one able to do so without consequence.

"They show no interest in him. Might not know or do not care."

"Or they just don't have the processing speed to associate my return with his survival. Soundwave, we have been through this already and I will not go over it again."

Soundwave was silent for a longer moment, long enough for Megatron to safely assume that he had said his peace and was dropping the discussion. He was about to turn back to the monitors when the big blue mech spoke again.

"Autobot: will try to kill you once free. His influence weakens you before the Decepticons." Another pause. "He no longer has useful information or use beyond keeping him as a plaything."

Megatron's gun arm twitched angrily but Soundwave stood his ground. "Starscream, Shockwave, Scorpinock, Onslaught, Ratbat: All will use this perceived weakness against you."

"Let them try!" Megatron snapped, bringing his closed fist down on a nearby console. "I will be cold and deactivated before any of them wrest power from me! And you would do well to remember that too, Soundwave!"

Megatron knew full well what kind of machinations his communications officer was capable of. It was only his usefulness that kept him where he was, and it didn't hurt to remind Soundwave of that fact from time to time.

For the briefest instant Soundwave's optic band seemed to darken angrily, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, and he was once again cold and logical.

"Understood, Lord Megatron."

"Good. Now go deal with Shockwave. I want him ready to perform the procedure before next moonrise."

"As you command," Soundwave droned before turning and leaving the command centre.

***

Megatron stormed into his quarters, his face twisted into a scowl that could curdle fresh energon. Without even sparing Ratchet a glance, he strode to the cabinet and pulled out a cube of high grade. The medic just glared at him from the corner. He'd learned long ago to not say anything when the warlord was in such a mood. In the early days of his captivity Ratchet had needled Megatron, verbally doing everything he could to make the warlord lose his composure. Unfortunately the ploy had worked and he had spent far too much time under Hook's not-so-tender care as a result.

Megatron glared at him as if daring him to say something. When Ratchet said nothing he pulled out a second cube and tossed it at the medic before sinking into a chair. For a long time he was silent, the only indication of his irritation was the tapping of his finger on the chair's arm. He glared at Ratchet and the medic glared back almost daring each other to act.

It was Ratchet who broke first. "What?" he snapped.

A low growl escaped Megatron's vocalizer an instant before he spoke. "What else? I work with idiots and traitors."

Ratchet could have commented. When Megatron had first started using him as a sounding board and confessional, the medic had responded with his usual snark. It didn't take him long to learn to not antagonize the Decepticon when he was already irritated. So he sipped his energon and let Megatron vent. Over the years that tack had lead to a variety of gems he could eventually use against the warlord. Assuming he ever escaped.

Megatron drank his energon moodily, glaring at the medic as he did. Soundwave's questioning of his decisions normally wouldn't have bothered him. In fact, he would normally have welcomed it. But today it had only succeeded in planting a bug of uncertainty in his processor. That combined with the Combaticons' abysmal performance on the battle field today and Starscream's insubordination afterwards only succeeded in aggravating him further. There was a time when he would have simply taken his aggravation out on one of his underlings; set an example for those who whould defy him. But of late he found that he was relying less on physical discipline. It did little to soothe his anger. Instead he found himself venting to his captive, telling the medic about his day, his irritation, his disappointment in his troops. He found that he was tempted to do the same today, but Soundwave's concern kept floating up to the front of his processor.

Finally his irritation reached the surface and his glare begame a look of pure hostility.

"What?" he snapped at Ratchet. "No pathetic little come back? No little dig?"

Ratchet's optics widened in surprise then narrowed as his own anger bubbled to the surface, fed by the emotions flowing across the bond he shared with Megatron. "Hey! Just because you had a slag day doesn't mean you can take it out on me!"

His own anger flowed back around, meeting and mingling with Megatron's until it became like a spinning maelstrom of hate.

"Why don't you go beat the rivits out of your troops?" he continued with a snarl. "Or have they finally grown the berrrings to stand up to you?"

He felt Megatron's control snap an instant before the warlord was on him. Pain lanced through him as one massive grey fist connected with his side, bending the metal and cracking something delicate inside. Another grey fist met Ratchet's windshield and shattered glass was driven into the circutry below. Ratchet's hands came up to strike back, but Megatron was too fast, too skilled, too angry for the medic to keep at bay. He had the knowledge, and given space he could have given as well as he got, but Megatron was not about to give him that leverage. He snarled as he reached for Megatron's optics, the warlord's fury spurring him on, but he was too slow and the last thing he saw was that silverhelm coming in to connect with his face.

***

Ratchet came online with an agonized groan of static as pain flared through his systems. Every sensor was throbbing and it felt as if every servo was filled with broken glass. After a moment of confusion he brought his diagnostics online and began to check his systems. He was still damaged, but Hook had seen to the urgent repairs. As expected from the mech he knew was a perfectionist, the work was flawless.  
"Yes he's functioning, but he's in no condition to have that procedure done," Ratchet heard Hook snap.

He tried to turn his head to look, but found himself frozen. A further diagnostic revealed that the Decepticon medic had left him paralyzed. A flash of panic threaded its way through his systems, transmitting out across the bond before he could stop it.

"Ah, I see he's online." Megatron's voice seemed to come from across the med bay near where Hook's had.

"Yes. He is," Hook snapped irritably. "But just because he's online doesn't mean he's up for the proceedure. Unless you want him to offline, in which case, please, be my guest!" There was no hiding the sneer in his voice.

There was a clang of metal meeting metal, an outraged squeak, and the sound of fingers scrabbling against a metal arm.

"My Lord! Please!" Ratchet recognized the voice as Scrapper. "He's simply voicing concerns. The fact that the Autobot might be deactivated is something we need to keep in mind. We only suggest that you wait for us to stabilize him."

Megatron grunted and Ratchet heard Hook hit the ground hard. "You will stabilize him before then end of the night. Shockwave will perform the proceedure as scheduled, and if you two fail to keep Ratchet functioning I will be finding a new head and leg for Devastator. Am I making myself clear, Scrapper?"

"Perfectly, my Lord."

Ratchet heard Megatron storm out, then he saw Hook and Scrapper above him and felt them continuing their work on his repairs.

"You know, if he didn't keep beating the slag out of him I wouldn't have to worry about keeping him functional," Hook grumbled as he carefully soldered a wire back in place.

"That's not going to happen, and you need to learn to keep your mouth shut, Hook," Scrapper replied.

Hook made a rude sound but didn't reply.

"This isn't a joke, Hook! Do you really think that threat was an idle one?"

"Yeah, I do actually." Hook stopped his work on Ratchet. "What's he going to do? Deactivate us? He's not going to risk losing Devastator or me. You act as if there's someone else here who can replace me as medic."

Scrapper's silence spoke volumes. Ratchet couldn't see him from where he was standing, but he was sure that the Constructicon leader was looking pointedly at his patient.

Again, there was that rude, dismissive sound.

"And if he choses to use the Robosmasher? What then?" Scrapper asked. "And don't give me that look. We both know he's more than capable of it."

There was a long pause as Hook continued to work on Ratchet, but his ministrations were no longer gentle. He was still being careful in his work, but he was making no attempt to not hurt.

"You're not doing anything to encourage me to ensure he stays active," he snapped. "And seeing as there's only a fifteen percent chance that he'll survive the procedure anyways, I have even less encouragement to go out of my way."

"Then how about this as encouragement," Scrapper said tightly. "Gestalts have five members, not six and Shockwave says he's figured out how to reformat Devastator into a more manageable unit. His words, not mine. And he's a passable enough medic that he'll be able to convince Megatron to choose you as the disposable member."

"I'm not discussing this over him," Hook snapped as he shut Ratchet's chestplate roughly. "Stop it! I'm not discussing it over the gestalt line either. Not with Scavenger listening in. I am not dealing with his sulking. Not again."

Ratchet heard Scavenger come around the table, and judging by the little he could see, the Combaticon commander pulled Hook away from the table. He heard the conversation continue in low, angry whispers until they were finally blocked by a door sliding shut.

He lay alone in the room, staring up at the ceiling he'd seen far too many times before, his thoughts in turmoil. There were only two possibilities facing him. Two roads. Either he lived or he died. If he lived he would be free of Megatron but still a captive. At best, he'd be a captive, no better off than he was now. At worst he'd become a slave, irrevocably changed by whatever plots the Unmaker had for him. If he died ... that possibility petrified him more than the idea of what living would bring him.

He tried to clench his fist angrily but his body would still not respond. With a soft, swallowed sob he clenched his teeth and fought the urge to scream out. Suddenly Hook's face loomed over him, looking even more aggravated than usual.

"I'm done with you being online," he said irritably as he pressed something to Ratchet's neck.

And the medic's world went black.

***

Hours later Megatron hovered near Hook and Scrapper and they worked on Ratchet, trying once again to bring him back from oblivion. The process had gone as it should have, and had resulted in a total separation of their psyches and sparks. But then, when Megatron had come back online, Ratchet had not. According to Hook, the process had been too much for his systems to handle and his spark was guttering, his systems failing.  
"I need you out of the way!" Hook snapped at Megatron as he had to move around the silver mech to get to his patient.

"You _will_ repair him!" Megatron ordered, glaring at the Constructicon.

"I will after you get the frag out of the way!"

Scrapper imposed himself between Hook and Megatron's cannon.

"My Lord, Hook is complying, but do to the nature and severity of the damage, this is going to take time and we need room," he replied diplomatically. "If you want to stay and observe, can I please ask that you move over there?" He motioned to the far end of the med bay, far enough to be out of the way, but close enough to still observe. "We need room to move if we are to prevent his deactivation."

Megatron glared at Scrapper and Hook before finally moving just out of the way. "If he dies I will have you both executed. Am I making myself clear?" he growled.

"Perfectly, my lord," Scrapper replied. "We will do everything we can to ensure that doesn't happen."

The frontloader moved back to Ratchet's side and opened the gestalt line to Hook. _"All right, what do you need me to do?"_

_"Find the leaks and clamp them off. Don't solder anything until I've seen it."_

_"Right."_ Scrapper began the long process of finding every leaking wire and cracked component. The autobot had been far too weak to undergo the proceedure, just as Hook had warned, but neither of them had anticipated the total systems failure, nor the small explosion that had followed it.

 _"It'd be easier to just let him offline,"_ Hook muttered in irritation.

 _"Yeah, and I'm sure that Megatron would be thrilled to hear that assessment,"_ Scrapper shot back as he glared at his gestaltmate.

Hook huffed angrily. _"What the frag is so special about this one? You'd think that Megatron would be thrilled to see this one expire, given their history."_

 _"I don't know. Maybe that's the problem. Their history,"_ Scrapper replied. _"I mean, it's not like this is any other Autobot. They were bonded for how long? And who knows what happened before that."_

 _"All this worry isn't in character for him and it has me worried, Scrap,"_ Hook said, sparing a glance toward Megatron. _"If I didn't know better I'd say that he actually cared for him. But I do know better, and I still say he's been acting strange ever since he came back from the dead."_

_"I don't know what to say, Hook. I really don't. I agree with you, he's not himself, but we're not exactly in a position to question him on it. None of us are."_

Hook snorted derisively. _"Oh no, there are people who can question him."_

_"True, but I personally would prefer this shadow of his former self over whatever Starscream or Onslaught would bring to the table. At least we know what we're getting with Megatron."_

_"Whatever. We're damned whoever's in charge anyway."_ Hook placed his hand over Ratchet's spark casing and felt for the pulse, nodding slightly as it started to steady. "And I think we're done for the moment."

He turned and found Megatron directly behind him.

"He is repaired and functional?" the warlord demanded.

"He's as repaired as he's going to be at the moment," Hook snapped as he moved past Megatron.

"My lord, we need to give his systems time to recover before we continue," Scapper added hastily as he saw the dark look in the silver mech's optics. "However, the prognosis looks good and he should be fine."

Megatron's lips thinned as his jaw bunched in anger and for a moment Scrapper was sure he would strike out at one or both of the Constructicons. But after a moment, the warlord nodded stiffly and stepped away, optics always seeming to drift back to Ratchet's still form.

"Very well. You will contact me the moment he can be moved back to my quarters."

"As you command," Scrapper nodded. His confusion was apparent over the gestalt link, but no sign of it appeared on his face or in his tone.

***

Ratchet was finally moved the next morning. He was still offline, but according to Hook he was simply recharging. Megatron sat in a chair in the corner of the room, half shrouded in darkness, his fingers digging into the arms. He glared at the autobot's still form angrily; but he wasn't sure if he was angry at Ratchet or himself.  
Ever since the Incident he'd felt Ratchet moving through his systems, corrupting him slowly by inches. But now that they were separate, now that he finally had what he wanted, he found the silence deafening.

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," he murmured to himself. "I was supposed to be free of you."

Ratchet groaned softly as he came online. His optics flickered slightly as they activated, finally settling to a pale, and sickly blue. After a long moment he turned his head and looked at Megatron, and for the first time in years, the warlord had no idea what the medic was thinking.

"Why am I still active?" Ratchet demanded, hate dripping off of every word. But under that anger was something else. He had also felt the lack of a connection and found he missed it.

"Because I'm not done with you," Megatron sneered. "And for what you've done, deactivation is too good for you."

"What _I've_ done?" Ratchet struggled to sit up, outrage giving him more strength than his body could deal with. "How do you figure that? All of this was-" Warnings flashed across his optics and he collapsed on the berth in a heap.

Megatron jumped slightly before reigning in the urge to check on the medic. "You brought all of this on yourself," he finally said with a sneer. "If you had left well enough alone, if you had just let me do what needed to be done, none of this would have happened. We never would have been fused, we never would have been bonded, and I never would have had you corrupting my systems like you have!"

Ratchet's optics flickered slightly as he sat back up, slowly this time so as not to add any more stress to his already weak systems. "You're the one who started this," he murmured. "You're the one who invoked the Right of Oneness."

In an instant Megatron was out of his chair and across the room. In one fluid movement he backhanded Ratchet, sending the medic sprawling off the berth.

"Never mention that!" Megatron snarled as he bore down on his victom.

"Or what?" Ratchet demanded defiantly. "You'll kill me? Go ahead!"

Megatron glared back at the autobot, his arm shaking with barely contained rage. "You keep testing me, Ratchet," he bit out. "You keep trying my patience. And for what? We've been over this again and again. No one is looking for you. The Autobots think you're dead, regardless of the fact that logic tells them otherwise."

Ratchet pulled himself up and leaned heavily against the wall. "And none of that explains why you're keeping me around. The bond's broken. We can both feel that it's missing. And yet here I am, back in your quarters instead of in the brig or in Vortex's dungeon."

Megatron pulled back at that, a look that might almost have been surprised hurt passing across his faceplate, though there wasn't even the briefest glimmer of that sentiment in his processor. Not that he was willing to acknowledge at any rate.

"Is that what you want?" he sneered. "You would really prefer torture over the comfort I provide here?"

"Comfort?" Ratchet's tone was equally derisive. "This isn't comfort, and at least Vortex is honest about what he does. He doesn't pretend that it's something it's not." With effort, he got his feet under him and stood weakly. "And you're contradicting yourself, Megatron. Do I deserve punishment or comfort for what I've done? Which is it? Because it can't be both."

Megatron's lips thinned again, but he never moved. "You've wormed you to my systems. You've corrupted me with your Autobot sensibilities. For that you need to be made to pay. But by the same token, I am not about to let you go. You know too much, might _say_ too much to my enemies. And besides, you want away from me, so the best possible punishment is to keep you here. In comfort. I believe the humans call it a gilded cage. Get used to it, my friend, because you'll be here for a long time. Bond or no bond."

With that, Megatron turned and left the room, locking the door behind him.

As soon as he heard the soft beep indicating an encrypted lock, Ratchet sank back down to the ground, all his defiance-borne energy leaving him, flowing out like water through a sieve. He buried his head in his arms and tried to control his mounting anguish. He was still trapped, held the prisoner of a monster. But now he was completely alone and empty. It was as if a part of him had been ripped out when the bond was broken. He was alone in his processor and in his spark, and that emptiness was worse than any torture he could possibly endure.

***

Soundwave sat in his quarters observing the whole exchange in silence. He knew that Megatron would likely have him killed if he knew there were recording devices in his quarters. But he also knew that those same devices had been hidden from sight for millennia, and would not be easily found now. Besides, there were more than enough other spies to throw into Megatron's path if he should ever suspect the truth.  
This new turn of events had him concerned. It was one thing for Megatron to practically fawn over this autobot when they were effectively bonded to each other; but now that they were finally separate beings again, this continued obsession was becoming more than a little problematic.

From his place on the floor Ravage looked up at Soundwave, as he sensed the mech's mood, and let out a small questioning noise.

 _"The autobot must be dealt with,"_ Soundwave replied across the link he shared with his cassettes.

 _"What do you want me to do?"_ Ravage asked, fully prepared to ensure the autobot met with an unfortunate accident while trying to escape.

_"We cannot kill him. We cannot risk losing control over Megatron, nor can we risk his tenuous hold on his sanity."_

_"Then what do you want us to do?"_ Laserbeak asked from his perch on the top of the bookcase.

Soundwave contemplated the situation a moment before finally answering. _"He must be removed from the equation."_

 _"How? If we aren't allowed to kill him?"_ Ravage asked as he sat up.

 _"We will return him to where he belongs,"_ Soundwave replied. _"We must inform the autobots of his presence here. We must accomplish this in such a way as to not implicate ourselves in the process."_

Ravage lay back down and rested his chin on his crossed paws as he contemplated the problem.

 _"Well ... what if we enlist some outside help?"_ Laserbeak asked slowly, testing the waters.

Soundwave turned slightly to look at his cassette. _"Yes, that is an option."_ He nodded. _"Yes, I believe that it is time to call on an old **friend**."_

***

When the message came in, Jazz had to read it three times after he'd broken the encryptions.

"It's not possible," he whispered.

"That's the third time you've said that," Mirage said in a bored drawl that hid both amusement and curiosity.

"And I'll say it again. It ain't possible, but th' source is good," Jazz replied.

"What is it?" Bumblebee asked as he came up behind the seated Porsche. He stopped cold as he saw the image Jazz was staring at. "By the ... is that Ratchet?"

Mirage looked up sharply and was across the room in an instant. "Ratchet? That's impossible," he breathed as he saw the image of Ratchet leaning against a wall in a black cabin. He was obviously talking to someone who was off screen, and the conversation was quite heated.

"We never did find a body," Bumblebee said softly.

"Yeah, but we never found any bodies at all," Jazz replied. "An' Megatron came back. So did Starscream."

"So what do you propose?" Mirage asked, stepping back from the desk.

"What do you mean what do we do? We find where he is and we get him back!" Bumblebee exclaimed.

"And where is he exactly?" Mirage asked, a slight edge of scorn in his tone. "And how do we even know this is recent footage? Or that it's even real?"

"The video's good, an' so's th' source," Jazz said solemnly. "Ratchet's with the Decepticons. Megatron's got 'im."

"Okay, so I ask again: What do you propose?" Mirage asked as he leaned back against the wall, optics never leaving the recording. "If that's the Nemesis, we can't break in there guns blazing. And if we sneak in there's very little guarantee that we can sneak out again. Ratchet may be a lot of things, but he's not very good at being silent. And that's assuming he wants to go. If this video is recent, then that means he's been with the Decepticons for close to fifteen years now."

"So what? We just leave him there? We write him off?" Bumblebee demanded, turning on Mirage. "And how dare you imply that Ratch's turned! This is _Ratchet_ we're talking about here, not-"

"That's enough," Jazz inturrupted. "No one's implying anythin', 'Bee, an' I see where you're comin' from 'Raj. Bee's right. though. We can't leave him there."

"And what about the spark connection?" Mirage asked, still insisting on playing Devil's Advocate. "According to Fix-it's report Ratchet's effectively spark bonded to Megatron. Even if he wants to leave, he may not be able to."

"And we'll deal with that when we get to it," Jazz replied, a hit of irritation slipping past his normally relaxed demeanor.

After a moment Mirage nodded. There was no point in arguing with Jazz over this. The Porsche had made up his mind and nothing - not even Optimus - would be able to change it now.

"Okay, so we'll deal with the problems as they come up," he said. "Am I wrong in assuming we're going alone?"

Bumblebee looked shocked at the suggestion. "We can't just go without telling anyone! Prime needs to know about this! He'll _want_ to know!"

"Yeah, he will," Jazz replied, a tone of sadness creeping into his tone. "And he'll want t' help too. He'll order us t' go in guns blazin' an' we'll get Ratchet killed. Or worse, he won't let us deal with what happens if Ratchet can't, or _won't_ , come with us."

Bumblebee looked like a kicked puppy for a moment, then nodded. He knew that this mission might not work out, but it didn't stop his eternal optimism from dampening a little at the thought of it.

Jazz looked at them both. "I'm not gonna order you t' come-"

"Don't start Jazz," Mirage sighed. "Just don't. True, while it would be easier for one of us to get in and out, you'll need back up and a distraction, especially if you're trying to sneak Ratchet out."

Bumblebee nodded in firm agreement. "And if we can make a big enough distraction, we might be able to get some other things while we're at it."

Jazz looked from one to the other, then finally chuckled. "Okay, you win. And I like the way your mind works little Bee."

He stood and clapped the other two mechs on the shoulders. "You two start getting what we need t'gether an' I'll go spin this t' Prime."

***

Ratchet woke from a deep recharge. He hadn't remembered falling offline, nor did he remember moving to the berth. After the last fifteen years he would have thought that by now he would have been used to waking up with no memory of what had happened and how he had ended up where he was. But he never did grow accustomed to the disorientation and confusion. Automatically, he reached out to the one steadying influence he'd had throughout his captivity, and found it missing. Megatron's presence wasn't there, and never would be again, and for a moment, he mourned.  
"Get a hold of yourself," he muttered angrily as he clenched his fists against the berth.

With an irritated sigh he sat up and looked around the room. Megatron still had not returned from wherever he was and the space was silent. For the first time in fifteen years his processor was clear and he could actually hear everything. The ship around him, while silent at first, was actually filled with sounds. The room was obviously near the center of the ship, but Ratchet could still hear the sound of the water pressure stressing the hull and the occasional low and haunting call of a passing whale. In the fifteen years he'd been held here, he'd never really listened to the ship and the environment, and now that he was, he found it almost soothing. If this place wasn't his prison, it would almost be homey.

And then the peace was shattered by a far away explosion that could only be Megatron's fusion cannon. If he was firing it inside, then either something had him seriously angry or he was losing his tight grip on his control. Either possibility didn't bode well for Ratchet's safety tonight.

"... slag ...," he murmured.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, he stood and moved across the room to the cabinet that stored the high-grade. His hand hovered over the first cube and stopped. In the past he wouldn't have hesitated to get overcharged until he nearly offlined, but now there was something different. Without the bond it was as if static had been removed from his processor and he could finally think clearly for the first time in far too long.

"... I need to get out of here ...," he murmured.

Steeling himself, he started to pocket several cubes of energon, both high-grade and standard. He had no idea how long it would be before he was able to get back to the Ark or if he was even heading in that direction. Regardless he needed to be prepared. He stopped and looked down at the pistol Megatron had provided, and after the briefest hesitation, he grabbed and holstered it. It wouldn't do much good if he came across one of the larger Decepticons, but just having it was comforting. With one last look, he moved to the door. And froze. Even without the bond, there was no missing the sound of Megatron's approach.

"Oh slag ...," he whispered. The choices were simple. Stay put and wait for another opportunity, or run and hope for a miracle.

The decision was made for him as Megatron burst into the room. He barely spared Ratchet a glance, heading immediately to where the energon was stored. The medic froze, bracing for the explosion that was bound to follow. Megatron's hands clenched as he looked into the cupboard and saw the missing cubes. He turned, his optics a dark and flashing garnet.

"Now? After all these years you choose _now_ to run?" he asked, irritation lacing every word.

For an instant Ratchet contemplated lying, but then, that old anger came flooding back. "Oh, I'm sorry, is now a bad time?" he asked sarcastically.

Megatron's gun arm twitched as he approached the medic. "Don't. Start," he bit out. "I am in no mood for your mouth."

Ratchet shrugged. "I don't care. You're in no mood for my mouth and I'm in no mood for you either. And I don't care if this is a bad time or not. I'm leaving, one way or another."

Steeling himself for the worst, he turned his back on Megatron and moved to the door, fully expecting to be shot for it. One way or another, he was leaving the Nemesis today.

Megatron watched him go, fully prepared to kill him for his insubordination. As he raised his fusion cannon and took aim at Ratchet's broad back, he felt something almost wilt within him. He was supposed to be free of Ratchet's influence, but now that everything was done, and the autobot was making this decision for the both of them, he found that he couldn't do what decepticon honour demanded be done.

"... stay ...," he said in a tone that no one would have ever believed could come from him.

Ratchet stopped, hand hovering over the door controls. "What?" he asked, never turning around.

"I said, stay. I require you to stay."

Ratchet turned to face Megatron, looking at the warlord and the cannon that was still pointed at him.

"Why?" he asked. "So you can continue to hold me here against my will? So you can keep on using me as your personal confidant and punching bag? The bond's broken. I have my free will back and I'm using."

Megatron's gun arm twitched before lowering slowly. "I can make you stay, Ratchet. I can make it that you _need_ to stay."

"I know you can," Ratchet replied in a voice that was a bare whisper. "And I know you won't. We don't need each other. Not any more. Now let me leave or deactivate me. I really don't care which."

There was a long silence between them and for a moment, both reached out across the bond that was no longer there. Finally Ratchet turned and palmed to door open. "Good bye, Megatron."

As he stepped through the door, an explosion rocked the base from somewhere on the lower levels.

With a growl Megatron brushed past him. "Go. Now. Before I change my mind."

Ratchet looked at him for the briefest moment before nodding and heading toward the Docking Tower.

***

"Frag it," Jazz muttered as he continued to try to hack into the systems of the Nemesis. "Yer not makin' this easy, Soundy."  
"Where is he?" Bumblebee hissed from his hiding place near the saboteur.

"Dunno yet ... just need another minute t' get in," Jazz replied tightly.

Mirage appeared behind him, optics taking in everything with a nervous intensity. "We're out of time. They're mobilizing and on their way. We need to get out of here. Now."

"Just another ..." Jazz stabbed at the firewall, giving up on subtlety completely. _"C'mon Soundwave. Ya wanted us here, now hand 'im over already!"_

The communications officer didn't reply, but Jazz did finally find a chink in the defenses and he focused on that. A few deft attacks gained him access, and suddenly a video image of Ratchet came up on the screen.

"Got him. He's in the docking tower." He pulled away from the terminal.

"What the frag is he doing there?" Bumblebee asked as he followed the saboteur.

"It doesn't matter," Mirage hissed. "We'll grab him on the way out. Now let's go!"

Without waiting Mirage jumped back up into the maintenance duct and started toward the docking tower.

***

Ratchet had made it to the docking tower with no difficulties. Whatever had caused the explosion was distracting all the decepticons, and he didn't see a single one on his way through the corridors. It was as if someone was ensuring his path was clear, but he wasn't about to question his good fortune. Whether it was a blessing or a trap, it wasn't as if he had anything to lose. Of course, now that he was here, his luck had run out.  
"Fragging blasted thing! Open! Primus damn it! Open!" he growled as he stabbed at the contols.

**"Access Denied. Access Denied. Access Denied."**

Ratchet growled and kicked at the console visciously. "Free to go my aft!" he spat out.

He was so focused on his attempt to escape the base, that he never heard the soft footsteps approach him from behind.

"Beatin' on it ain't gonna work, Doc."

Without pause, Ratchet spun and lashed out at the voice, aiming a flat palmed strike while pulling the small pistol. He never connected. The gun was knocked away and his wrists were grabbed in an iron grip and he was quickly pinned against the wall.

"Nice t' see you too, Doc." Jazz's tone was light, but there was a guarded look in his face and form as he assessed the medic.

Ratchet froze and looked down at the Porsche. "Jazz...? I-" His tone and the look in his optics spoke volumes of doubt and fragile hope. With a soft, swallowed sob he shuddered and leaned into Jazz, trying to envelop the saboteur in a hug. "He told me you weren't looking ..."

Jazz let go of Ratchet's wrists and pulled the big mech into a hug, ignoring the pointed look that Mirage was giving him.

"Well he lied t' ya, and don't you ever think anythin' else."

"This is wonderfully touching," Mirage drawled, "but in case you've forgotten, our distraction won't keep them distracted for long."

Jazz pulled away and looked Ratchet in the optics, searching for any hint that he wasn't himself or was in any way compromised. Finding none, he turned to Mirage and Bumblebee.

"Right. You two guard th' door an' I'll see if I can't sweet talk the tower into openin' for us."

Ratchet picked up his gun before leaning against the wall, watching both Jazz and the door nervously. While it was obvious now that Megatron had been lying to him for all these years, he couldn't help but question the coincidental timing of all this. His rescuers arriving on the same day that Megatron released him was almost too much to accept as mere chance. But at the same time, this was likely to be his one chance of getting back to the Autobots and away Megatron.

He felt his spark fade a little as he thought of the warlord. Any thoughts he had ever had of caring for that monster had been the result of the bond; he knew that. But at the same time, fifteen years - as short as it was for a Cybertronian - was a long relationship to simply forget. He needed to eacape now while he had the chance to, so why did a part of him want to walk back into the Nemesis and back to his quarters? Why was a part of him hoping that all of this was a strange dream?

"Ratch! Let's go, mech!" Jazz called out impatiently.

The saboteur stood by the now open entrance to the docking tower, motioning for Ratchet to follow while the other two special ops members looked on. Bumblebee looked concerned while Mirage looked on warily.

"Right, I-" Ratchet shook his head to knock his demons away. "Sorry, Jazz."

"No probs, mech. You stay at th' back an' we'll get ya home safe n' sound."

And with that, he was free, heading up the lift to the outside world, Jazz, Mirage, and Bumblebee flanking his ascent. He was going home. He was finally going home.


End file.
